Straight Through Hell
by Moirei
Summary: "But oh, my heart was flawed, I knew my weakness. So hold my hand and cosign me not to darkness." – We always joked that we could walk through hell with a smile. We never thought we'd actually have to, but once the power went out, everything changed. Collab with breathe1926.
1. Prologue: Consign to Darkness

**Straight Through Hell  
**Written by  
Hallow Bird and breathe1926

* * *

**Opening Author's Notes: **This collaboration is the result of marathoning Revolution till 5 am and a discussion between friends usually starting with the statement '_what if.' _After discovering this show together and the lack of OC stories in its fanfiction archive, we decided to create one of our own. Even though this story will include OCs, it will explore more of the canon characters and plots. The past will be added to and despite the show's cancellation, our ideas equal out to a five season show, at least. This story is the first of many in a series we like to call _The Contrasting Chronicles._

**Story Details:  
**Title: Straight Through Hell  
Rating: T for language, violence, and suggestive content  
Disclaimer: Revolution and all of the characters therein do not belong to us. Any original characters or content does.  
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for both seasons. Slight AU. OCs. OC pairings.  
Pairings: Monroe/OC, Miles/OC

Readers, we hope you enjoy the story that follows. Please read and review; we would love to hear from you. And now onto the story...

* * *

**Prologue  
Consign to Darkness **

_Life isn't just about darkness or light, it's about finding light within darkness.  
_–Landon Parham

* * *

**.V.**

* * *

Do you ever wonder where you would be the day the world ended? I always imagined I be doing some heroic shit. Like saving a puppy, or fighting a giant robot or something. My best friend disagreed.

"You'll probably be in the middle of the chaos with some stranger and a bottle of vodka," she told me when I asked.

I laughed and returned her jab.

"Well, you'd probably be sitting in a damn Starbucks reading some shitty romance novel or making out with that thing you call your fiancé. It's like a pet, right? Do you ever have to feed it?"

She laughed and told me to take another sip of wine.

So a few months later, I'd like to say that I was out slaying the dragon of bureaucracy and standing against the intrepid societal bias and injustice known as "THE MAN." I would love to prove that even the lowest of the low can rise above the poor choices and poverty that comes with being less than the 1% of America's rich upper class…but I can't.

The day the world ended I was sitting in a bar texting my best friend, drinking a Bloody Mary.

From a radio, music blared loud and annoying, hammering my already buzzed brain. After a few sips, I felt a bit drunk. I was looking around for the next guy I would take home, and feeling kind of unlucky at the moment, when my phone buzzed. A text from one Rose Dawson…aka Sam Carter.

She was gushing about her fiancée again. I still hadn't met the bastard that was trying to marry my sister. I decided to remind her of that fact:

**_I still need to have a talk with your fiancé. I need to tell him about the future he won't have if he breaks your heart. It should be a nice conversation between me, him, and my knife._**

I could almost hear her laugh through the phone when her reply came.

_You can't threaten a man you haven't met. And you will not hurt him! Or scare him off. I really love the guy. He's amazing. He's perfect...and he has a friend. A really cute friend_**_._**

Samantha Carter, romance extraordinaire…

**_You're already engaged._**

And then there's me….

_I know that! I mean for you. So you can stop picking up guys in bars and leaving them in the morning. Having a steady relationship is really nice._

As I read that I looked up from my phone to see a college aged guy staring at me from across the bar. He had deep-set green eyes, and blonde hair, and was very obviously checking me out…Right on time.

He seemed cute enough, and definitely interested. What the hell, I might as well enjoy myself, so I did what I do best, played hard to get. I winked an eye and flipped my brown hair and ducked back down to my phone…

**_What's wrong with my current approach to men, Dawson? It seems to work for them._**

I looked back up from the phone and was met with the green eyes of the guy who'd moved to sit in the bat stool next to me, and a glass of whiskey in front of me.

"Have a drink," he said.

"Why do you think I'm here dumbass," I told him, taking a long sip of the whiskey.

"Mind if this dumbass joins you then," said the guy.

Sexy and direct, my lips turned into a sly smile. This one I may bring home.

"Well does the dumbass have a name, or can I call you dumbass all night," I said, another sip of the drink following the snide remark.

He poured himself a shot of whatever the hell it was he was drinking, and took it quick and fast like a man. His eyes stared to haze over, the alcohol beginning to take effect…

"The dumbass's name is Mason, and what about you, pretty lady? You gotta name," said the dumbass, _Mason_ apparently.

"You can call me V, and you had a few buddy," I asked him, the last thing I wanted tonight was a drunk off his ass moron trying to shit talk his way into a ride home (yes it had happened).

Then right on cue, my phone buzzes…

_Because it's a lonely existence and you never get attached. That is the point of dating - to find love and find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with._

My eyes rolled over in my head. She knew me well enough to know her romancey, lovey dovey shit wouldn't do jack on me. I didn't do "steady" or "lifetime commitment"

Although I couldn't deny she may be right. That maybe a constant lover would pull my mind away from Afghanistan, and away from…it may help. But I'd never say that….

**_Which sappy romance crap novel did you steal that line from?_**

I looked up from my phone; to see that the dumbass had passed out next to me, go figure…I began to wonder what would happen if I did have a "steady, affirming relationship" as Sam put it.

I'd be lying if I said it wasn't tempting to forget about all of it and a guy maybe the way to forget about it.

I took a long drag of my whiskey, the burn down my throat, making me crave more.

Men and whiskey were one in the same to me.

One sip, one touch, it led to a desire for more.

That desire, that burn, it led to a glass, a kiss.

That glass, it led to a bottle, that kiss to something even more.

I sighed, and picked up the phone…

**_Maybe I could go on –_**

My phone screen went blank. The bar went pitch black. The music died into deafening silence.

_Well, shit, _I thought, _I guess I'm meant to be a lonely cat lady after all._

* * *

**.Sam.**

* * *

Do you ever wonder where you would be the day the world ended?

Unlike my best friend, I didn't like to answer those types of questions. You know the ones like 'if the zombie apocalypse happened, where would you go?' or 'if World War III broke out, what would you do?'

I didn't like to think about all the bad, bad things that _could _happen in the future. I didn't understand why you would want to think about wars and catastrophes. I didn't understand why you would allow your mind to be consumed with the darkness those thoughts of 'what if' spawned. There was too much happening in the present to allow yourself to become so focused on the fragile circumstance of _the future._

But, I will admit, I do think about the future, usually just my personal future of the upcoming things. Things that don't depress me. Things like my hopes and dreams that have been a while in the making. Like my progress in medical school, my upcoming wedding, the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with, the kind of house we will buy, the looks and names of the many kids I hope to have, the places we can visit. See happy and hopeful things like that, not sad and depressing things like death and destruction of everything.

Although, V Knight likes those kinds of questions. I can't explain to you why. I can't explain her and I will marvel at any person that could possibly unravel some of the enigma that is my best friend.

When the question _do you ever wonder where you would be the day the world ended? _popped up randomly during dinner in our shared apartment one night, V insisted I answer. To avoid those bad depressing thoughts, I made the conversation humorous by answering where I thought _V _would be when the world ended.

With a cheeky smile, I had answered, "You'll probably be in the middle of the chaos with some stranger and a bottle of vodka." The image came clear to mind–the brown-haired woman standing on top of an abandoned car while fires burned around, cackling at the dark sky when not taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. If the world did end, I knew my friend would find some way to thrive. Hell, she would probably rule the anarchy as Queen of the World.

When I told her of my theory, she had a good laugh. Taking a sip of wine she'd procured (whether by legal or not so legal means, I didn't ask and she didn't tell) as part of an apology for destroying the television in her rage at the Sherlock Season 2 cliffhanger, she replied with her vision of me during the end of the world. "Well, you'd probably be sitting in a damn Starbucks reading some shitty romance novel or making out with that thing you call your fiancé. It's like a pet, right? Do you ever have to feed it?"

I shook my head as I laughed, amused greatly by her genuine confusion of a _fiancé_. After a few months of my engagement, she still couldn't wrap her head around the idea of marrying and committing to _one _person the rest of your life. I couldn't blame her, knowing better than anyone that she was more of a _lone wolf_ who liked to have a man around for one night and one night only instead of the 'long term romancey crap' V calls it.

Though that doesn't keep me from trying to set her up on a few dates. Even with each defeat, I still try to see if I can bring her some happiness like she did me. It was because she had dragged me away from my novels to that bar the night after her enlistment that I had met my future husband.

The night the world had ended, I sat on a bed in some motel room, texting my best friend and my fiancé.

The room was clean and decent for the money I had paid to stay for one night. I made a little cocoon of blankets and pillows on the bed to lounge on while my Macbook sat on the comforted before me. It was an alright bed, nothing near as comfortable as the one in my shared apartment. But the fact that I was not too far away from where my fiancé was stationed currently was more important to me.

Steady noise of action and dialogue from the _Batman Begins _movie playing on the television filled the lamp-lit room along with the occasional bing from my phone. My eyes were focused on the computer screen. Expertly with a skill acquired through years of college, I scrolled through my Pinterest dash, on the search for more last-minute wedding ideas, with one hand while eating chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream with the other.

My iPhone buzzed with a text. The screen reported it came from _Catwoman_, aka my friend V. For years we had an on-running joke, I'd call her _Catwoman _because she was quite similar to the suave, sexy criminal and she'd call me _Rose Dawson _since I had been the one to force her to watch what has now become her favorite movie, _Titanic_. (After she fell in love with the 'sappy romance' movie she'd sworn to hate until she actually watched it because of my persuasive skills with duct tape, she told me she would actually kill me if I informed anyone of her new favorite.)

Swiping my thumb the across the screen, I opened up the message. **_I still need to have a talk with your fiancé. I need to tell him about the future he won't have if he breaks your heart. It should be a nice conversation between me, him, and my knife._**

A laugh bubbled past my lips at the blunt statement…but then I started to think how V rarely did not follow-up on her threats...the image of my protective best friend meeting my fiancé filled my mind with a million worst case scenarios of spilled blood and tensed my body with nervousness.

Dear God...V and him meeting had the potential for either a blessing or a disaster. There was a possibility that the meeting could turn out well. They could maybe get along, considering their charismatic personalities, similar sense of humor, and the fact they both had served in the military. But V's mostly extreme protectiveness over me and my fiancé's deep attachment, board-line possessiveness, towards me, might cause the end of the world.

Well, the end of _my_ world at least.

But, one could never know. I tried to reassure myself that everything would be alright with calming thoughts and another spoonful of ice cream. They haven't even met, I reminded myself. Calm down. Everything will be fine. Just lay down a few ground rules so V doesn't kill him, I thought.

I quickly typed and sent back my response.

_You can't threaten a man you haven't met. And you will not hurt him! Or scare him off. I really love the guy. He's amazing. He's perfect...and he has a friend. A really cute friend._

I smiled to myself as I sent the text. Hopefully, V would try to go on this blind date. This time I thought it might work out well. The man was a childhood friend of my fiancé's. _Practically my brother, _he had once said. After meeting him, I knew my fiancé's praise and love for him was well-earned and I started a friendship of my own with him. He was a great guy. Loyal, understanding, respectful of space, good sense of humor, quiet. I personally thought he would be perfect for V...if she would just go out on one date with him.

**_You're already engaged._**

V's text reminded me, as if I haven't been planning a wedding for months.

Rolling my brown eyes, I sent back, _I know that! I mean for you. So you can stop picking up guys in bars and leaving them in the morning. Having a steady relationship is really nice._

Another response came quickly.

**_What's wrong with my current approach to men, Dawson? It seems to work for them._**

I nearly threw my phone across the room in exasperation. My mind immediately filled with reasons why the whole 'no attachments' life style was not the best, and most of those reason were quotes directly from countless movies and novels, a few of them being the 'trashy romance' books that were my guilty pleasure. My mind went through the familiar rant as if it was speaking directly to my lonely best friend with an alcohol addiction while I consumed some more ice cream.

The phone buzzed once more. This time the screen read: _New Message from Batman. _As a soft smile twitched my lips, my eyes settled on my left hand. The simple gold band and single diamond shined beautifully in the soft light.

_Hey, angel. Are you at the hotel yet?_

The smile only grew, seeing that he was checking up on me and making sure I didn't get lost, which was an easy feat for me considering I had no sense of direction. I've gotten lost in Wal-Mart on more than one occasion to both my friend's and fiancé's amusement. I quickly replied to ease any worry he might feel.

_I've already checked in, made my blanket cocoon, and acquired access to the WiFi and Pinterest. Batman Begins is playing on cable and I have ice cream. So I'm perfect for the night. How about you? Are you still at the base or did you go out?_

His response came immediately. _Good. Glad to hear you didn't get lost in the middle of nowhere. Sounds like you got a pretty good set up in that room. Brother treated me to a night out for some drinks. We had a good time, though I wish you were here._

I have found the perfect man, I thought once more with the brightest smile. _Well, I'll be there tomorrow morning. So we don't have to wait too much longer to see each other, because God, I've missed you. And tell your brother I will hit him if you're too hungover to get the marriage license tomorrow._

A familiar rush of emotion filled me, clutching my heart with a wonderful tightness as my thoughts were once more consumed with thoughts of him. His intelligence. His humor. His strength. His perseverance. His loyalty. His devotion. His charming smile. His eyes. His amazing hair. Just _him. _

Everything about him was wonderful to me, even the flaws and even the scars, both physical and mental from his tours of service. Despite the little imperfections, despite the nights I wake up to his nightmares, I love him.

I just love him so much.

Being filled with that love gave me my answer to V's question about what was not really wrong...but unsatisfying in a life without anyone else. _Because it's a lonely existence and you never get attached. That is the point of dating - to find love and find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. _I sent to V.

I smiled, proud with the answer. Hopefully the message would get through her thick skull and open her up to at least take a chance on finding someone.

Her response came rather quickly.

**_Which sappy romance crap novel did you steal that line from?_**

Exhaling in frustration, I nearly chucked the phone with the damn message from my stubborn friend. The only thing that stopped me was a another alert. _Batman _had replied.

_I've missed you too, angel. I can't wait till morning. And I told him. He was shaking in his boots. He promised I will be sober enough for tomorrow. It's not that difficult to get a piece of paper._

Perfect timing, I thought as a few words from him brought a smile easily from me. _He better be scared. And it's an important piece of paper. It's the paper that will allow us to get married._

Another alert, another text from him.

_Then it's the most important piece of paper in the world if it allows you to become my wife. _

As I read the message, my teeth chewed on my lips to prevent my grin from spreading any larger. Heat flooded my face, and without looking in a mirror I knew my pale skin had turned pink. Damn him. Even miles and miles away he could bring out a blush in me with a simple sentence and a memory of his smile.

_Stop that. You're making me blush._

_But, angel, you're adorable when you turn red._

I just knew where ever he was at that moment, he was smirking that damn smirk, the one that without fail makes my knees grow weak.

_Shut up...I love you. _I replied.

Leaning back against the mountain of pillows, I raised my left hand, bringing it to eye level. For a moment, I just marveled at the ring on my finger, at the significance of it, at the soldier who'd mailed it to me from across the world with a simple note, at the imagination that soon a another band of gold would join it on my ring finger.

Then the lights started to flicker.

I looked away from the ring and around the room, watching with furrowed brows as the lights began to flicker, the screens of the television and laptop began to blur with static and waves. Even the lights outside of the room's window started to flutter.

Electricity crackled loudly and strangely.

Confusion and panic jolted through my body.

Immediately, I grabbed my phone, trembling fingers flying across the touch screen to the call option.

I had to call him, I had to call V.

I had to make sure everything was okay.

Everything _had_ to be okay.

Then, the phone's screen started acting up, blurring and blinking. My eyes widened and my fingers moved faster, almost violently tapping the screen.

There was a large surge, and with a cry from my lips, the world was consumed in darkness.


	2. Ghosts on a Highway

_**Straight Through Hell**_

**Chapter 1  
Ghosts on a Highway**

_People have disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away.  
_–F. Scott Fitzgerald

* * *

**V**

* * *

**15 Years After the Blackout**

My life and my problems since after the damn day the goddamn lights went out can be summed up into three words:

_Miles. Damn. Matheson._

I tracked his ass from Philly to California and back. He was a pain in my ass bigger than Texas, which is quite the accomplishment. He had a talent for narrowly avoiding me, and taunting me like a little shit. My life in this black hellhole was based on the fact that I always get my man. My target is always found, and turned in for a nice bounty, but with one god damn exception.

_Miles. Damn. Matheson._

I had finally found the bastard.

Chicago.

How the hell had the bastard ended up in Chicago, I wondered as I found myself sitting in a bar that had once been the one and only Grand Hotel. I had stayed there once, before the world plummeted into the dark hell I always knew it would eventually be. At the time, the lobby had been pristine, and the floors polished white. I swear even the goddamn toilet sparkled.

But now…

The hotel was far from grand. It was dark and dingy, and the whole place smelled of shit mixed with bourbon. The windows and walls were covered with grime. The floor was coated in the stains of broken dreams and bad decisions, and a couple of other things that I can't speak of. In short it was about the nastiest place I had set foot in since Texas, so naturally I sat down at the bar fully intent on having a drink.

The bartender had her back turned to me. I debated whether or not to steal some booze and hunt down the one and only handsome bastard who lived in the bar, or order a drink.

Fuck it.

I had been through hell and high water to find him.

I deserved a drink.

"Blondie, can I get a drink," I yelled down the bar.

The blonde bartender slumped her shoulders.

"What kind of drink," she asked me.

"Surprise me," I called back.

The woman, with her back still turned to me, began picking up bottles of various kinds of alcohol and flavorings. She poured shots into a single glass, and then covered the glass, and shook with ease and familiarity, like she had been doing it for years. Damn, I was impressed. She finished mixing the drink, and turned around to set it down in front of me

As she turned around and finally looked at me, she froze. Her grip on the glass loosened, sending it crashing to the ground. The shattering cup didn't break her focus. Her expression was held in one of pure shock and disbelief. I had to struggle to keep my own straight and emotionless.

I was looking straight at a familiar person whom I hadn't seen in years.

The blonde hair framed the sweet face of a memory. She had the same green doe eyes. Her slim figure was still clothed in a dress that belonged in a _Southern Living _magazine. She still looked like the picture of innocence.

Once you got past the overall femininity of her, I saw what few would notice. She had a hard light in her eyes that had replaced the soft glow they once held. The frame of her shoulders was weathered down and no longer relaxed. She had creases around her eyes, and her face was beginning to age. All in all the woman staring looked like someone who had lived a hard life, but still was trying to be happy.

_Sam_.

My best friend.

I swallowed my shock.

"When and how in the hell did you learn to bartend, Carter," I asked the paralyzed woman, dryly.

The sound of my voice seemed to snap her back into reality.

She pulled her face into a tight glare, but struggled keeping it there, and placed a hand on her hip.

"After five years, that's the first thing you ask me," she said, giving me a look that was somewhere between disbelief and laughter.

I shrugged at my old friend.

I wasn't good at the whole interacting with people thing. Most of my social interactions involve knives, swords, machetes, alcohol, or sex.

"What else should I ask? Is there a script for this kinda thing," I asked, pretending to be panicked.

She laughed, a small twinkling sound I had begun to think I wouldn't hear again.

"You haven't changed at all V," said Sam, still laughing.

* * *

**6 Years Before the Blackout**

_I walked through the halls of the special circle of hell that is High School. The bell that released the inmates had rung moments earlier, and now I got the pleasure of searching for a diner or store to rob, and a box to sleep in. I stopped by the janitor's closest, to pick up my books._

_The old man that cleaned the school was actually pretty cool. He didn't question my joint use of his closest, and he supplied me a place to ditch class, a place to sleep, and liquor to drink when I needed it._

_Underage drinking laws my ass._

_After I collected my shit, I headed outside of the prison, eager to breathe air that was untainted by the poor aspect of life called learning. I walked out of the brick building with the full intent to find an old abandoned house and sleep in it, but I was interrupted._

_"Hey, where are you going,"I heard a perky voice behind me call._

_Damn it._

_It was the girl in my English class._

_Sandra or Sadie or something._

_I kept walking, not wanting to deal with her right now._

_"Hey, wait up," she called, running up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder._

_I shook it off._

_"What," I asked, maybe a little too harshly. Not my fault, she was the one who tried to bother me._

_"Well, we have that project to work on for English, and I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house and start on it," she said, stepping in front of me._

_Her green eyes met mine, and I huffed._

_Sandy or whatever-her-name-is was my partner on an English assignment, but I was determined not to work with her._

_The blonde smiled at me, and laughed._

_"I guess you don't do that often," she said with a giggle._

_"Do what," I asked, now confused._

_"Talk to people," she said matter of factually._

_"Look, blondie –,"I started to say._

_The girl made a face, and put her hand on her hip._

_"Samantha,' she said, irritated._

_"What."_

_"It's Samantha, Samantha Cater, but most people call me Sam," she said._

_"Fine. Look Sam, I don't do people. They are horrible things that will screw you over. Ten times out of ten, people always do the stupid selfish thing, so I actively avoid them," I told her._

_"Well, now I have to prove you wrong. You have a friend now," Samantha said to me._

_I blinked._

_Damn, this girl wasn't just the quiet sweet thing she was in class._

_"You seriously think it's that easy," I asked her._

_"Well no, I don't know your name, so first I have to know that, and then yeah."_

_Seeing that she wouldn't give up I told her my name, sort of._

_"V. My friends call me V, or at least they would if I had any friends," I said, stealing a line from Disney._

_"Ok V, so here's how this is going to work, you are coming over to my house. We will eat, and then work on the project, because we are _**_partners_**_. After finishing that, we will watch movies, and become best friends. My car is around the building. So come on," She told me, grabbing my hand and dragging me off to her car whether I wanted to come or not._

* * *

I looked at her again, really looked, and thought back to that first meeting. Almost twenty years later and so much has changed, but I saw _we_ hadn't. The world had gone to shit and life as we knew it had burnt up in a flameless fire, but even here in a pitch-black hell, the sweet girl who had dragged me to her house like some kind of pet was still there. The two of us, even at the end of the world, were still sisters.

"So why are you in Chicago? Where have you been? Have you met anyone? How have you been? What have you been doing? Is there-," she started firing off questions.

I cut her off, overwhelmed by the sudden interrogation.

"Slow down woman, I still haven't had that drink," I said with a wink.

"Right! Give me five minutes, let me get Miles to cover for me. Then we can go and catch up," Sam told me, not even waiting for my approval before she went running off.

I watched her disappear behind a door towards the back of the bar. I smirked, realizing she had forgotten my drink. After sitting at the bar alone for a few moments, I decided I really needed that drink.

I looked around the bar, and towards the door Sam had gone through. After making sure no one sober was paying attention, I leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. The bottle was small enough for me to slip into the pocket of my black cloak, but not before I took swig of the amber liquid.

I sat back down, just in time to see Sam re-enter the bar, a man trailing behind her. He was average height with a mess of brown hair, and the expression of a troubled man. He had a sword at his waist, and he continually looked over his shoulders. His brown eyes held a hard gaze that could only have come from years of being on the watch for a knife aimed at your head.

Miles. Damn. Matheson.

I finally had him...but he could wait.

That handsome bastard was nowhere near as important as Sam. I finally found my best friend, and I'll be damned if he ruined the little reunion. I could slit his throat later, but for now, I would sit with my best friend and catch her up on the last five years of hell, and Texas.

Sam looked in my direction, and motioned for me to join her in a back corner of the room. I moved that direction. It was a small sitting area with chairs and couches that once may have been luxurious and pristine, but now most of them looked like they had been taken through a mud pit, and that was putting it lightly.

We both sat down, and I took out my bourdon. Sam eyed me for a moment before laughing and shaking her head. Her green eyes were shinning like they used to before the blackout. I saw her smile still held the same innocence it had back then.

I took a swig of the whiskey, and smiled.

"So how the hell did you end up in this shit hole, Carter? What happened to that crazy bastard," I asked her.

Immediately, Sam tensed. Her gaze shifted from my face to somewhere behind us, like she was looking for a memory. Her eyes quickly lost the gleam they had held earlier, and it was replaced with a lonely look. Worry lines around her eyes, mouth, and forehead appeared, deeply etched into her skin. The woman's lips fell from a smile into a hard line, and her hands cradled one another in her lap. For the first time, I noticed the lack of two rings on her left hand.

She stayed frozen like that for a moment. Her eyes still distant, and searching the bar for a face that would never appear. Her right thumb moved across her left hand, trying to fiddle with an absent ring. Her shoulders slumped over slightly, almost like someone had placed the weight of the world on her. With a single question she seemed to age twenty years

_Damn it, this shit world has screwed her over too,_ I thought, needing something to punch, preferably the crazy bastard's face that did this to her.

* * *

**Sam**

* * *

When the lights went out, the world was cast into a literal and figurative darkness. With the sudden change, everything fell into chaos and panic spread when all the technologies our lives depended on stopped working. In order to survive, you had to leave everything you once knew behind and adapt quickly to this new world of militias, swords, and candlelight.

If you tried to cling onto the old world, you died.

You had to do what you had to do to survive, I learned quickly. But I was one of the luckier ones. I had someone who had promised to protect me, to be there for me. For better or for worse, the vows had said.

The lights might have gone out, but life kept going. Things changed. The world adapted and now there were children who grew up on stories of the wonderful, lost thing called electricity. Children who couldn't even remember what a lightbulb looked like.

Without power, easy communication like texting or calling disappeared. It became almost effortless and common to lose touch with friends and loved ones.

Especially if your best friend never stayed in one place too long because she got bored or was banned for 'illegal activities.'

So of course, the next time I saw V Knight after five years was when she walked into a bar I happened to work at.

It took a lot of self control not to hug the woman to death in relief that she was still alive or yell at her in anger for not at least trying to contact me. The last I saw of her had been the image of her back as she ran through the dust cloud and debris her explosions created.

And despite all that time spent apart, V looked the same. Though, if anyone could defy time and the laws of aging, it would be V. Fifteen years in hell and yet she still had those bright red lips pained in a killer smirk, those sharp, yet beautiful features, those harden, dark eyes, the weapons strapped to every limb, and the damn cape of night.

When she walked into the dingy bar, cloak trailing behind her, she brought the warmth of the summer sun of our adolescence, the securing comfort of late nights filled with sappy movies and meaningful conversations, and the easing relief of the confirmation that when everything was falling apart, we were still here. We were still sisters.

But beneath the nostalgia, memories stirred, ones from more recent times, dark and painful like the world we lived in now. In the wake of reminisce, restless ghosts rose once more to haunt me with what had been and was now not–the weight of rings, the comfort of devotion, the wholeness of a heart.

Blue eyes cursed me.

Blue eyes loved me.

But those eyes, and the man they belonged to, were lost to me.

And with a knife to the heart, I let them slip from my mind, trying to stay focus on the present, on the delivered friend sitting beside me, instead of trapped in the past and the ghost miles away.

The low conversations drifted through the bar as I took a moment to figure out where to even _start _to explain what had happened these past five years. Bits and pieces of sentences drifted by, some familiar bar talk I'd grown accustomed to, some too loud complaints about the laws of the Republic. Among it all one phrase stood out, a soft string of words in uniquely accented voice.

_We're looking for somebody._

It was a common occurrence. Now a days it was too easy to get separated and lost. On more than one occasion, after a late night of drinking, people would stumble into the bar in search of friends that had wandered a bit too far from the group. Usually their friend would be found passed out in the back, covered in sweat and booze.

After the brief pause, I tried to focus my attention back on V and the five years late 'catching-up' conversation we've had yet to go through, but any words died quickly in my throat at the sound of two names.

_Miles Matheson._

_Sam Carter._

There seemed to be a moment of complete stillness. The constant chatter halted, the beat of my heart paused, the breath in my lungs stopped. Nothing moved.

And then, everything was thrown back into motion, but I remained still. Only my mind worked, now spinning with a rising paranoia and a burst of panic. I've spent five years looking over my shoulder, moving from place to place before familiarity could set in, living like a ghost, unseen and quiet. It was the only way you could live with an entire militia searching for you.

Recognizing questions being asked around was the first sign to move on, I immediately began to follow the _Get the Hell Outta Dodge _Plan, as Miles titled it. The door to the back of the bar was nearby and it would be easy for me to sneak back to collect our supplies and weapons before slipping out of the building. It was simple and inconspicuous.

But with one major problem. Miles was still manning the bar and thus, unable to slip away as easily as I could. Not even for a second did I entertain the idea of leaving him behind.

Blinking, my attention was drawn out of its planning and worrying.

"What's wrong with you?" V questioned, narrowed eyes studying me intensely. The expression on her face made it appear like she was ready to kill someone, which I knew to actually be her own unique form of concern for me. Or possibly anger at others, she did have a habit of pulling out a machete in answer to insults.

"V...do you have a knife," I asked slowly, thinking that she could cause a distraction (which she was particularly talented in) to allow Miles and I a chance to get away.

The question seemed to offend her for a moment at the thought of _not _being armed with an arsenal of blades. "Do you even have to ask?"

"Get it out," I instructed.

"Which one?"

"Surprise me."

Painted lips spread into a smirk that was as nearly as sharp as the machete she brandished from the endless depth of her cloak. Nodding in approval, I said, "Be ready to cause a distraction if needed."

Her grin only grew in excitement. "I was born ready," she quickly replied, laying the machete in her lap. As V took another drink from the bottle of whiskey she'd _acquired, _I left the sitting area and began to make my way towards Miles.

Reaching the end of the bar, I came to a stop as all my attention focused on the young man leaning across the counter and speaking to Miles. In between them, he held a knife threateningly with a smirk playing along his lips.

Miles looked down at the knife for a moment. In the next second, he'd taken the knife from the man and held the blade against the other's throat. With a small comment, Miles removed the knife, spinning it in his hands and stabbing it into the bar. The younger man stared in shock, the smirk fallen from his mouth, at the skill and familiarity Miles showed with the weapon. He continued to stare as Miles began to walk away, gesturing for someone to follow him.

On the other side of a bar, a young woman moved passed the stunned boy and trailed after Miles's path. She was a young brunette, tall and tanned and dressed for travel, with deadly crossbow was strapped to her back. Wide, blue eyes followed each of Miles's movement, studying him. Her features seemed familiar to me, though I could not quite place her significance.

When Miles approached me at the end of the bar, he turned and addressed the girl. "Charlie, do you remember Sam?"

Blue eyes focused on me, and after a moment, recognition lightened their shade. "Aunt...Sammy?" She questioned. Her voice was hesitant and soft and her expression was kind and astonished at my presences. After all, the last time she had seen me was when I was walking away four years ago, both of us unsure if we would ever meet again. Back then she had been a skinny teenager, caught in the awkwardness of puberty and the beginning of a rebellious adolescence.

I smiled gently at the young woman she was now. "Charlie, it's great to see you. You've certainly grown up."

* * *

**Guest: If you love witty sarcastic banter, this is the place to come. It will never stop, especially with a character like V Knight. And don't let Sam's sweetness fool you, she has her own sass streak. We're glad you've enjoyed the story so far, despite the terrible updating schedule. **


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